


Psmith and the White Knight

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Psmith - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Fist Fights, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Sedleigh, protective mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 07:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14515611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: Psmith turns up bruised and bloody. Mike wants to know why.





	Psmith and the White Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts), [MildredMost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Soooo because I had such absolutely wonderful comments on that other Psmith fic I wrote ([x](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14350965)), I decided to write another. I honestly thought that first one was crap and I probably wouldn't have written any other Psmith fic had I not received encouragement from such persons as @aurilly, @MildredMost, and @buttermilkhill. Basically, thanks a bunch!

“What on earth happened to you?” Mike cried. Psmith had just stumbled into the study, face bruised and lip bleeding. “Have you been in a fight?”

Psmith wiped some of the blood off of his chin with the back of his hand. “You are, as ever, quick to find the truth. Whenever Life presents one with a puzzle, one has only to go to you, Comrade Jackson, to find out the answer.” His voice was somewhat quieter than usual.

Mike brought Psmith over to one of the chairs and looked at his face in the light. “Who did this to you?” he asked in a custodial manner. “Was it Stone?” Psmith winced as Mike prodded lightly against the bruise on his cheekbone. “Sorry.”

“No, it was not Stone. The boy may be bothersome, but he is not savage. No, this was one of the village ruffians. As a matter of fact it was two village ruffians, though that additional person does not make much difference in the larger scheme of things. Whether one is beaten by a single individual or multiple has no bearing on the fact that one is beaten.”

Mike frowned. “Why’d they hit you? Did you get in an argument with them?”

“One might call it that, I suppose.”

“Smith,” Mike said sternly.

Psmith sighed. “They found difficulty with my actions, dear Comrade Jackson. I do not know what else to say.”

Mike remained silent for a moment while he got a cloth and wiped Psmith’s face gently with it. He noticed, then, that Psmith’s monocle was gone.

“I say, you’ve lost your eyeglass,” Mike said. “Did they take it?”

“No,” Psmith sighed. “I removed it. It was a necessary precaution. One does not want shards of glass lodged in one’s visage, if one wishes to keep the rosy complexion of youth.”

Mike clenched his jaw and sat down beside Psmith. “Are you going to tell me why they hit you?”

“Would it make a difference to you, Comrade Jackson?”

“Yes it would! People can’t just— _hit_ you!”

Psmith  sighed wearily. “ I am loathe to contradict you, but they quite obviously can.”

“Well, I won’t let them, in future,” Mike fumed. “If you’ll just tell me who did it.”

Psmith paused, then said, “ The one specimen was called Collins, I believe,  but his accomplice was not named. I had not met them previously and I could not give you a better description than that they were both fair-haired and stocky individuals.”

“Are you not going to tell me why?”

Psmith swallowed. “Comrade Jackson, while I appreciate the effort on your part towards becoming my savior, I really think it best if you would just let this occasion die down in your memory like the faint snatches of a dream upon waking. I shall not go near those two again and I don’t believe they know how to find me. I am grateful for your assistance, but it is not necessary. Psmith has learned his lesson. He is not a fool. He does not go out seeking trouble. If you will but trust him, all shall return to its sunshine and roses-filled state.”

“Smith, look at yourself! You’re bleeding and your eye’s black. If I came back looking like this, wouldn’t you want to know what happened?”

“I told you what happened. I met two boys in the village and they found fault with me. Thus, the beating. End of story.”

Mike glared at Psmith. “Tell me.”

“I would rather not.”

“ _Tell_ me.”

Psmith sighed and raised his eyes heavenward. “Alright, but if you find the tale troubling, do not say I did not warn you.  I was attacked most brutally because,” Psmith paused for dramatic effect, “of my nature.”

“Your nature?”

“Yes, Comrade, my nature. I am one of those beings cruelly fated to a life of loneliness and misery caused only by my attraction to those of the male sex.”

Mike cleared his throat. “I take it that’s why they…”

“Indeed not! I had not gone to them for anything, nor they I, but they knew of certain places in the village where it is common for one to meet with another if one is of that persuasion, if you grasp my meaning. I had heard from several whispers that there was another boy willing to engage in certain acts living in Lower Borlock and, after making some discreet inquiries, I found out where to meet said boy. It was on my way there that I was attacked. And that,” Psmith concluded weightily, “is my tale. Are you disgusted with me yet, Comrade Jackson? Must I leave our beautiful study to go in shame off on my own? Is our dormitory fated to become a seat of tension and distrust? Tell me now, for I do not believe I will be able to withstand the pain later.”

“Hold on a minute, Smith. I’m not going to kick you out.”

“Then I am utterly relieved. However can I repay you for this—“

“I just want to know,” Mike interrupted. “Why you had to go all the way down to the village and risk your skin just to have a little romp with some stranger?”

Psmith eyed Mike warily. “You are aware that one cannot simply declare oneself an invert and expect interested parties to leave you their card? There is a certain danger that comes with this, especially at a school so closed-minded as Sedleigh.  Eton, on the other hand, one may be able to consider it. But Sedleigh, no.”

Mike’s face softened into an expression Psmith couldn’t quite name. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

Psmith blinked. “It would pain me no end to ask something of you that you were not actively enjoying.”

“What if I would enjoy it?”

Psmith paused for a long moment.  “Then I suppose I have acted foolishly.”

Mike grinned. “You dashed well have.”

Psmith attempted to smile back, but grimaced when it tugged at his split lip. “Hm. This is somewhat unfortunate.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s only that I would rather like to kiss you just now but am hindered by the fact that it would rather sting. I don’t suppose you would, as the Americans say, let me take a rain check?”

“You _are_ a chap,” Mike chuckled,  patting Psmith’s hand. “No, I wouldn’t mind. Thanks for telling me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

 

~

 

The following weekend, when Mike had finally found some free time to go and take a small trip down to Lower Borlock, he arrived back at Sedleigh bruised yet triumphant. His entrance into the study was rather more of a strut than a walk and caused Psmith to look up, surprised.  
“Comrade Jackson,” he exclaimed. “Have you been to the village?”

“I have,” Mike declared. “And I met your friend Collins and I dare say he won’t trouble you again.”

Psmith’s blush was embarrassingly quick. “You fought Collins? I dare say you have a spine of steel, Comrade. The man is nearly twice your size!”

Mike shrugged with a small smile. “Didn’t matter. I was quicker.”

Psmith  stared at him, then stood abruptly and walked  over to Mike.

“I don’t suppose,” he breathed, leaning slightly closer, “I could turn in my rain check now, could I?”

“I’d be sorry if you didn’t.”

“In that case…”

Psmith  curled a hand around Mike’s cheek and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Leave me a comment if you've got suggestions for anything else.  
> Thanks!  
> \- M


End file.
